Thursday, 22 November 2012

TWENTY – ONE KUSALA DAM DAYS: 1st Sun Down


Having wild romance at midnight with a lady you had just met the afternoon before, and refusing to call it a one-night stand, would be bizarre. Well, after the club at Nomansland disappointed, we managed to psyche a bike to ride us all the way to Danbare, the students’ neighbourhood opposite the new site of Bayero University, Kano. We had the room to ourselves, and my blood got hot. If Sika had anticipated this all evening, she must be having her wishes played out before her. We were clear-eyed; a bit tired, and cursed the searing heat. I lay beside her, tucked my left arm round her, resting it on the voluptuous breast. I was satisfied with the sigh she gave. Rhythmically, I began roving over her trunk while the tempo of her sighs continued to heighten. Then I jumped on her, and began kissing, caressing and undressing her simultaneously. She reached for my loins, and undid my belt. My maleness had come to terms with the air in the room, while I reached for my bag. The oil and latex were always in my bag. Together with my toothbrush and paste, Jasmine – my laptop, and some fragrance, I always made sure I was always ready for the moment.
It was 1:30am, and I had just put a call through to Ugo. I was still naked; Sika had switched off to sleep within moments after my climax coincided with her fourth – she’d had too much. Ugo was having relationship issues, and while we had constantly made love in her hostel room back in Jos, we still kept our relationships, and called the other, friend. Yes, we were friends with benefits. Her lame boyfriend as I’d seen him was at being childish again. She was pissed, and was ignoring him for the umpteenth time. The last time she had cried in her room, I had consoled her, wiped her eyes, hugged and kissed her, and then we made some good, good love. She had cursed me that night for not doing enough to snatch her from her boyfriend. Tonight, she was narrating how he kept bugging her with calls and messages, and how tempting they have been for her to resist. She likes him, but his immaturity bored her to death. She was learning, and sought motivation to continue at her course from me. Then she'd bribe me with sex.

It was July 6th; I’d just woken up still drowsy and terribly in need of a massage. My host was long gone to school, and no one was in the compound either. I trudged off in to BUK new site with Sika, got some breakfast, and wandered around in vain, looking for internet. You wonder why it is so difficult to find public cafes in and around students’ neighbourhoods. In anger, I returned home, and packed. I enjoyed just my third tricycle ride to Kikabuga, and got a cab going to Karaye. Passangers mused about the distance, the heat and what to expect at Karaye, but after about two hours, a high-walled compound stood before me. I went through routine security checks, and walked in to the compound. My first sight flashed back imaginary scenes from Kalu Okpi’s “Biafra Testament”. Orders barked out in confusing staccato, and the field was a sea of white. More enquiries sent me further in to the belly of the compound. In thirty minutes, call-up letter was verified, platoon assigned, but the accommodation officer was nowhere around. You could see frustration on the faces of youth who had turned up from all across the country, tired, hungry, weary and fearful of the land which they would call home for the next one year, and in for which I became the 2292nd person to report to camp with primary assignment in Kano State.

Egbo had not said a word all day, and even though I find myself cheating on her, I still DEARLY love and yearned daily for her. A bugle sounded, and we were all gathered. I promptly stood in line, and waited for over an hour, before we were addressed by the Camp Coordinator, a large Gwari woman with a deep voice, evidence of how she had systematically solved stress with tobacco. I lined at the rear, within close proximity of the military instructors. One was wearing a blue United Nations shirt, with UNMIL inscribed on it. I knew what it meant, and they were bemused that I did. We talked about the Nigerian contingent to the United Nations Mission in Liberia, and some shared stories of their expnce in Liberia, Sierra Leone and most recently, Sudan. I had fried yams for dinner at the mammy market, where some girls were already selling their wares for that hour come. I scoured my environs and began adapting to the crowd gathered in the hall, waiting till 11:30pm to get a mattress. I had not been allocated to any room still, and I knew I was going to spend the night in the "open"; but the anger was doused by a call from Egbo after I had sent her an sms. Mummy also called to know how I have fared and cope with the new culture, and having eased 5,000 NGN extra above budget from my account, I knew I needed to act financially sustainable to be able to adapt here.

It’s 12:11am, the morning of the 7th of July, and am  about to doze off to sleep with thoughts of Egbo on my mind.